Wipeout (Jack Frost x Reader)
by HermioneFrost
Summary: You are sick and tired of Jack and Bunny fighting all the time. It's driving you crazy! But have no fear. North has a plan. What is this plan, you may ask? And why on Earth is this titled "Wipeout"? Well, my dear reader, just read and find out! I'm sure you'll have a splashing good time :)


"You're a bloody basket case! How many times have I told ya ta stay outta the Warren?"

"Relax, Bunny. It's not like I was doing any harm."

"Ya froze all my blooming flowers, ya drongo!"

You sigh, placing your pencil on your desk. There is no way you're going to get anything done, not with those two constantly arguing. Taking a deep breath, you stand up from your seat at your desk and irritably make your way to the Globe Room.

You first met Jack a few years ago. It was wintertime, late at night some time in January. You were having trouble sleeping, tossing and turning, young mind haunted by endless nightmares. You needed to do something, anything to get your worst dreams out of your head. So, you being the adventurous kid you were, you hopped out of bed and climbed out your window, careful not to wake up your parents.

The moon made the snow under your boots sparkle like glitter. You had forgotten your gloves at home, so you shoved your shivering hands into your pockets. You walked to the park, which was only a couple of blocks from your house, and started swinging. After a few minutes, you became bored of the constant back and forth motion. You wanted to do something more fun.

Soon enough, you were crawling up the roots of the tallest tree in the park. You ignored the icy frost on the branches as you climbed higher and higher, determined to reach the top. When you were up a good five or six feet, you stopped, gazing at the winter wonderland before you. Suddenly, you became aware of your height. The ground seemed miles away. You started to panic, hugging the nearest branch. You cried for help. No answer. After all, it was one in the morning. No one in their right mind would be anywhere near the park.

All of the sudden, your feet slipped, and your grasp on the wood was released. Your heart dropped in your stomach as you plummeted to the ground. You screamed, knowing it was the end.

But it wasn't. Out of nowhere, two arms caught you just before you hit the snow. You opened your eyes slowly and saw your hero: a handsome teen with scruffy, white hair and no shoes. He said his name was Jack Frost. Yes, _the _Jack Frost. After calming you down, he flew you home, tucking you in and promising to build a snowman with you the next day.

Jack and you had grown very close over the years. With him, everything was snowballs and fun times. Except that one night.

Your parents were out Christmas shopping and had left you home alone. Outside, there was a massive blizzard with the force of a hurricane. You sat on the couch, watching the news in fear of the worst. And that's when you got the phone call.

Your parents were found on the side of the highway. Their car had slid off the road and flipped into a ditch. The paramedics had arrived too late. Your parents were dead.

Jack had felt worse than awful when he saw how heartbroken you were. He didn't mean for the storm to be that big. So, to make things a little better, he offered you a home at the North Pole. You accepted, naturally.

Life at the Pole is great. It's always winter. The food is incredible. The elves and Yetis are friendly. And you always get to see Jack.

Well, when he isn't fighting with the Easter Bunny, anyway.

"This is the last straw, mate. I'm tired of ya shenanigans!"

You walk in on Bunny throttling the collar of Jack's hoodie, raising him sternly to eye level.

Jack clutches the Pooka's paws in desperation. "Let me down, Kangaroo!"

"I'm. Not. A. Bloody. Kangaroo!"

"BUNNY!"

He jerks at the merciless tone in your voice, eyes wide open with terror as he drops Jack on the spot. Jack stands up, rubbing his most likely bruised bottom, his frosty eyes raging with red hot anger.

"How do you expect me to get anything done around here with you two constantly arguing? I can't even complete a simple sentence in my mind without getting a headache!"

"It's not my fault!" Jack cries. "Bunny's insane! He keeps yelling at me for no good reason!"

"No good reason?!" Bunny grinds his teeth, poking his furry finger to Jack's chest. "You're always the one that starts it! Every time I turn around, ya always find some way ta give me the flick!"

Before Jack can make a comeback, North waltzes in, separating the rivals. "Gentlemen, gentlemen, vat is matter? I can hear you all the way from other end of Pole!"

You exhale in frustration. "It seems that Jack and Bunny can't go five minutes without insulting each other."

"Can so!" Jack blurts.

Bunny snorts.

North's thick eyebrows crease and he takes a slight step backwards, stroking his ashen snow beard. The corners of his lips curl upwards, the gears in his head turning at the speed of light.

"AHA!" the jolly old man shouts, causing the boys to jump. "Ve vill have contest!"

"A contest?" you say. "I hate to break it to you, North, but isn't the point of a contest to fight?"

"Not this kind of contest."

Rather than trying to explain your case - and frankly, common sense - to North, you decide to let him state his case.

"Ve vill have battle of the seasons!" At this, he extends his arms to emphasize the grandeur and glory of such event. "Bunny and Jack vill be placed somevere vith their least compatible climate - Bunny in snow, Jack in sun. Whoever lasts longest wins! Loser is slave to winner for a year."

You chew on your lip, processing North's proposal. If one was a slave to the other, they wouldn't have any room for arguments. After getting past the initial "I have total ownership of you" part of it, they might actually start to get along. Putting them in each other's natural season wouldn't be such a bad idea. Plus, you'd get to see Jack in swim trunks...

"Sounds good to me," you confirm.

"I'm up for the challenge," Jack grins slyly.

Bunny smirks. "Bring it on, Frostbite." 

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

You wiggle your bare toes in the buttermilk sand, the warm, creamy particles flowing between your phalanges like buttery silk. Crystal blue waves sweep the shore in a back and forth motion, the morning sunrise rippling in strips of tangerine and peach. The water is the most gorgeous turquoise you've ever seen, the color belonging only to the Bahamas beach before you. The air is suffused with the smell and taste of salt, misting up from the crashing waves. A cool summer breeze runs through your hair, careening the lush palm trees behind you. You close your eyes, smiling as the sun's rays dance off your cheeks. What did you ever do to deserve such paradise?

_Thump!_

Oh, that's right. You agreed to help North monitor the contest. He is currently with Bunny outside the Pole, no doubt enjoying seeing the Pooka turn into a popsicle. You are in charge of Jack, who just threw a frisbee at the back of your head, and a hard one at that.

"Do you mind?" you grumble, massaging the small bump beginning to form under your (hair length) hair.

"Nope!" Jack replies with that stupid, smug look on his face. You hate to admit it, but even though the arctic hellion drives you insane, you couldn't help but have a tiny crush on him. Maybe it was his award-winning smile, could be his playful laughter, perhaps it was his dreamy, cerulean eyes...

Okay. So your crush is a tad bit bigger than tiny. But that doesn't mean you're head over heals. Oh no, you've learned a trick or two over the years, becoming just as mischievous as that troublesome snowman. Whatever he does to you, you do back, sometimes better.

You lay your towel under the shade of the sturdy, jade green palm leaves, setting aside your bulky bag of beach items. The clock on your phone says 7:20. Time to start the timer.

"Heads up, (your name)!"

You turn around inevitably only to be knocked flat on your butt by a catapulting beach ball. Jack bursts into a fit of laughter so strong he has to hold his sides to contain it.

You sigh. "You're laughing now, but keep in mind that I have total control of the clock and, further, the time reported to North."

This shuts him up almost immediately.

You get to your feet, brushing the grits of sand off your thin, transparent ivory cover up. The frail fabric clings to your legs, already dotting a couple of fresh sweat beads. It's going to be a hot one today. You pull the lacy cloth over your head and pick up the bottle of sunscreen from your bag. With a generous blob in your hand, you rub the cool lotion into your exposed skin. The rest is covered by a simple (favorite color) tankini. The straps tie behind your neck in a prim little bow. The nylon fabric fits to your curves and covers your stomach, making an exception to its modesty by allowing a sliver of (skin color) skin to show between your belly button and hips.

Jack is still wearing is hoodie, ultramarine and stitched with frost. His cheeks, normally having a slight blue tint to them, are as pink as coral. "Hey, (your name)," he calls. "Is it hot out here, or is it just me?"

_Both_, you think to yourself, not daring to say it out loud. "You still have your hoodie on, genius. Why don't you take that thing off and let me put some sunscreen on you before you burn to a crisp?"

He chuckles lightly, lifting the sweater over his snowy locks.

You had no idea your winter friend was so well built.

Not to say that he is a major body builder with Herculean muscles. But he is muscular, sporting a taut stomach and sturdy biceps. Maybe throwing snowballs is a better form of exercise than you thought...

"Um, hello? Anybody home?" Jack snaps his fingers a few inches away from your face.

"What? Oh, yeah. Sorry." You blink in embarrassment, closing your gaped jaw.

He smiles warmly, just a hint of cockiness in his lips. "So, how about that sunscreen?"

You nod, pouring a lump of repugnant coconut cream into your palm. "I'll get your back and shoulders if you get your front and face," you say, handing him the bottle. Your hands move slowly, massaging the sunblock into his pale skin, cold to the touch. Starting with the shoulders, moving in circles down the blades. You rub the lotion into his tight sides, running your palm down the ridges of his spine. You finish at his hips, just where his sapphire blue swimming trunks begin, extending to his knees, dotted with dozens of crystalline snowflakes. Your fingers pull back carefully and Jack turns to face you.

"Well, did I get it all?"

A few giggles slip from your lips. "Not quite, Icecube." You reach up and rub a small smear of sunscreen into his nose as he squirms teasingly.

"Now then," he beams. "Let's go have some fun!"

The two of you spend the next several hours occupying yourselves with various methods of beach merriment. Since Jack is the spirit of winter, he is new to such activities involving sand and surf, so you, being human and consequently the only said "expert" on the subject, are left to enlighten him.

Boy, does he catch on fast.

You start with a classic: building sandcastles. You explain to Jack how to mold the sand like it were snow, only adding different amounts of water to make it stick better. Needless to say, he masters this skill in mere minutes. You seem pretty impressed with your own castle when you're finished, complete with a moat, battlements, and assorted seashells. But it is childish compared to Jack's. His fortification is as grand as Hogwarts Castle itself. Five towers rise in majesty, some left as turrets while others are topped with pointed steeples, stooping over chapels and dungeons. Stones and shells border his moat, barricading his stronghold masterpiece.

In other words, he makes you look like a fool.

But no matter. Surely you could beat him in beach volleyball...

Oh, how wrong you are.

The cursed rogue snowman gets the gist of the sport like it were nothing more than a simple sleigh ride, flying through the game like a breeze, which is definitely an unfair advantage - flying. His bare feet hardly ever touch the warm sand. He spikes and dives like a pro, assaulting you with the ball more often than not, your tanning skin left spotted with crab red circles and bruises that look like giant raisins. Not to mention your patience is wearing thinner by the second.

Even lunch is a competition. Your good-intentioned seaside picnic gets interrupted by Jack's ambitious ego. It starts with a friendly little bet of who can eat more, which evolves into a full-fledged food fight. Sure, he's only having fun, as the Guardian of Fun should, but there is such thing as taking it too far...

You manage to cool down your temper soon enough, just as the heat begins to rise significantly. The golden sun has now resided at its most favorable position in the sky, it appears. The temperature must be at least a hundred and counting. Your slimming swim suit feels like it is hot glued to your skin. You must have lost at least ten pounds in sweat alone. What you would give to be in Antarctica right now...

Speaking of Antarctica, where is that troublesome iceberg?

You look around, but Jack is nowhere to be seen.

"Jack?" you call out. When you get no response, you say it again, louder. "Jack?"

Nothing but the splashing of waves and the squawks of seagulls.

"Jack!"

A muffled groan hits your ear. You look towards the line of swaying palm trees. There, lying on the soft sand, is Jack.

"JACK!"

You rush to his side frantically. He looks awful. His once snow white skin is now as red as a pepper, flaming hot to the touch. His arms are limp and flailed to his sides at odd angles. His lips are slightly apart, the rest of his face contorted in pain. His breathing is quick and shallow, his burning heart beating rapidly.

Heat stroke.

Old Man Winter is melting.

_Run!_ you command your feet, though the velvety sand feels as syrupy as molasses. You drag Jack by his wrists, wincing at the scolding temperature. His groans become louder with each heaving step you take. _Come on!_

You collide with the turquoise waves, a chilling rush of salty sea flooding your senses. You hold him in your arms, his body bobbing with the tide as you swim to deeper water. The crystal ocean is now at shoulder level. Jack's face relaxes, but not by much, his jaw still clenched shut, eyes closed tight. You cup you palm and scoop a handful of icy water onto his forehead. You repeat the process, each time feeling his temperature drop little by little.

It takes a considerable time to extinguish his fever and get him back to his frosty coldness. But you don't dare to stop, set on getting him back, holding your breath the entire time. When his eyes flutter open, you smile with relief.

"(your name)..." he mumbles.

Whatever comes after is a mystery.

Out of nowhere, a massive wave the size of a skyscraper approaches. The tropical jade tide surges to touch the citrus sun, mist sparkling in the heat. The towering waters crash upon you with the force of a roaring avalanche. You fall into the ocean numbly. Water punches your stomach, suffocating your mouth with sudsy salt. You thrash your arms around and make your way to the surface, coughing up the bitter tide.

The sea is now calm, ebbing and flowing in serenity, clear as a polished fishbowl. Tiny purple fish swim in circles. Magenta corals dot the floor. A pale, lifeless body with snowflake swim trunks sinks helplessly.

Oh no.

Jack!

You dive after him, pushing through the sea as fast as you are able. No matter how hard you try, he keeps dropping further and further. When you finally come within reaching distance, you grab his arms and lift him to the surface.

"Jack!" you cry, desperate to bring him back to consciousness.

He doesn't answer.

You wrap your arms around his pale, firm torso, dragging him onto the shore. His arms fall limp on the squishy sand.

"Jack! Wake up!" You slap his cheek, leaving a faint hand-shaped mark and, frankly, not really caring. He deserves a good smack, but he should be breathing when it happens. You place your hand over his heart, praying for the rhythmic pulsing. You feel no such thing.

"This isn't funny anymore, Jack!" you yell as you grab him by the shoulders and give a hard shake. He is still, looking much like an innocent child, peaceful in a sea of dreams.

Tears start welling in your wide, (eye color) eyes. "Please," you whimper, pulling back a wet, silvery piece of his hair. Then, as your first tear hits your cheek, you get an idea.

You kneel at his side and begin pushing the center of his chest vigorously. One, two, three, all the way to thirty. You tilt his head back and lift his chin. Taking a nervous gulp, you pinch his nose and cover his mouth with yours, giving two breaths and ignoring the butterflies whirling and swirling in your stomach. When he doesn't come to, you start all over. Chest compressions. Head back. Lips. Breath of life. _Come on!_

You do the process four times before he regains consciousness.

Jack coughs, spurting sea water in your face. You don't even notice, more focused on sitting him up, your hand supporting his back embedded with grains of sand.

You sigh as his breathing returns to normal. "Jack..."

He runs his hand through his damp hair, ruffling the silver locks. His electric blue orbs lock with yours, the corners of his lips curling upwards in that arrogant, troublesome, childish smirk you've always adored. He raises his salt and pepper eyebrows playfully. "You just kissed me."

Oh, the nerve of that stupid snow cone.

"Don't make me throw you back in, Frostbite," you scold, allowing a rosy blush to creep its way into your cheeks.

You pull out your phone at the end of the day just as the sun starts setting, Jack doing who knows what in the sand. The little envelope in the corner has a red number beside it. One new message. And it's from North.

"Hello, (your name)," his booming Russian voice rings through the phone. "I call to say Bunny has given up. Yes, haha! You should've seen him. Feet vere frozen in two hours tops! Hope you get message soon. Vouldn't vant Jack getting overheated or something."

He called at half past nine.

It is 8:00. At night.

Whoops.

_Maybe he won't be mad,_ you hope as you walk over to the winter spirit. He's drawing snowflakes in the sand, each unique, perfect in their own ways with their intricate swirls and delicate tips. You clear your throat, and he directs his attention to you.

"So..." you start. "You know how the contest was about who could last the longest?"

He nods, already beginning to grin.

"Well, good news is that you did just that!"

"Really?! Oh, that's great! I knew the Easter Kangaroo didn't have it in him," he laughs victoriously. Then he rethinks about what you said. Good news. Well, if there is good news, then there is more likely than not bad news as well. His laughter dies down. "And the bad news is...?"

You take a deep breath. "We could've left here about ten hours ago."

You know what's going through his mind. Ten hours. Leaving ten hours would have meant no heat stroke. No drowning. He could have avoided all of this. If only you would have checked your darn phone.

"You're not mad, are you?"

Jack scoffs. "Of course not."

Then the hellion gives you a sly smile, making you fear what he has in store next.

"This is ridiculously immature, even for you!"

"Oh is it, now?" Jack sneers at you, pacing around you in a circle.

You struggle to break free from your trap, but seeing as it is the beach itself, there really is no escape. Jack, being the master of flirting and mischief, was somehow able to get you in a hole in the ground, one that is just your size. You are now buried up to your neck in tightly packed sand, now cold and gritty.

"I saved your life twice today," you spat. "Is this any way to treat your savior?"

The Guardian chuckles brightly. "You know good and well that this all traces back to you, (your name). I'm just playing karma."

"Karma? Do you know how many times you hit me with something today alone? The frisbee. The volleyball. The blasted picnic basket! You should be the one in the sand trap, not me!"

He shakes his head, still wearing that stupid smirk on his face. "Tsk, tsk. Is that any way to treat a guy who almost died twice in one day?"

You take a deep breath, grinding your teeth irritably. "Just get me out of here already. You've had your fun."

"Oh, I don't think I'm quite finished, yet." He struts over to you and leans down, holding your chin with his finger. In one swift motion, he kisses you right on the forehead. "I'll be back for you later."

And with that, he turns, winking at you before flying away in the vermilion sky.

Your cheeks are a steaming burgundy. That boy - he could put you on the brink of madness, spewing and sputtering like a teapot, but at the same time, he could sweep you off your feet, showing you wonderful feelings you've never felt before. Oh, how much you'd like to beat him upside the head.

"JACKSON!"


End file.
